


Mycelium

by orbitium



Category: Super Mario & Related Fandoms, Super Mario 64
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbitium/pseuds/orbitium
Summary: Vignettes from Mario's story with some more worldbuilding thrown in.
Kudos: 2





	Mycelium

If the princess had fled to Mycelium castle, out in the old wild country and barricaded by mountains, then the monsters were right behind her. Nothing less would have sent the life-long urbanite into hiding just when she needed to be seen smiling, powerful, and surrounded by supporters. _Please come to the castle_ , she had written carefully. _I have baked a cake for you._

Mario had taken a warp from central station to the nearest town, then hiked the rest of the way up. It was a clear hot day. The path up was bordered by ancient woods, so it thrummed with the hidden movements of living things and the trees cast a lacework of cool shadows over the road. The magic of the stars was on that place. You could feel it especially at night, the stark mountain skies and the way the fortress reached into the vastness of space, pulling in energy like flecks of iron to a magnet. Even at noontime, though, it felt safe and secure, a walled garden set off from the world.

The castle lay straight ahead, but when he saw it, Mario felt certain at once it was silent and empty. _Too late, too late_ thumped his heart. The cicadas were chittering in the trees, but there were no sounds of people, and it was far past the time someone should have stopped to ask him why he was there. Maybe it was a ruse to make the castle seem uninhabited, but he didn't really think so.

* * *

When no better idea came to mind, he crept up to the castle and thumped on the door. The sturdy wood absorbed the sound like nothing, making him feel quite foolish, but he discovered the doors were unbarred anyways and pushed his way inside. He took a deep breath, fearing the worst.

Whatever he expected to find, this absolutely wasn't it. The once modest, bustling household had become a dream-building, immense and echoing. The sunlit walls ranged up and up into infinity, crowded with colored windows and doorways and balconies, ribbons of staircase criss-crossing the air between. It looked as if someone had taken the basic idea of the place, disassembled it, and thrown it together without any thought to how the pieces fit. Mario's footsteps rang out strangely in the silent space. There was no sign of any living thing. It felt like a tomb.

The first door he recognized was a passage leading to the armory. The inside was changed again, however: instead of a stairwell, he found a gleaming table at the center of an opulent marbled room. It was a dead end. Turning to leave, he took a second glance at the room's painting: it depicted an enormous grassy battlefield, continued across three walls and so immaculately detailed that it seemed to draw you into it. You could feel the dust and the wind, hear the flapping of banners, see the plumes of cannon-smoke scudding across the landscape.


End file.
